Speak |h.s. a.u.|

Chapter 82

I don't know if any of you have realized, or have been here since, but I started writing Speak February 9th of 2014. It has been over two years, often with sporadic updates, but we're eighty-two chapters along and still going strong (I can rhyme any time).

^*^

Annabelle helped Harry get comfortable on the couch before making soup for him. He felt better than yesterday, but still didn't have much energy. Harry thanked her by kissing her cheek, thankful that his coughing had subsided today.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep while Annabelle showered, almost entering slumber when he
felt pressure on his chest. When he heard Annabelle's giggles, he knew that this were her doing, and he opened his eyes when her nose rubbed against his. She was laying on top of him, her damp hair falling around his face like a curtain.

"Hi, doll." Harry's horse voice spoke as he placed his hands on her back. She smiled at him, leaning down and kissing his lips. He whined, moving his lips away from hers.

"You can't get sick, Annabelle- don't pout like that, it's not fair- no no, you don't have to go away-" Harry sighed after pulling Annabelle on top of him again. Using his thumb and pointer finger, he held Annabelle's chin and waited for her to kiss him again (of course, he didn't have to wait very long).

Harry mumbled something about how she drives him crazy against her lips, but she couldn't understand what exactly he said.

"Huh?" She pulled away from his lips, pushing some of her hair away from their faces, only for it to fall back down. Harry smiled, remembering the first time that happened in London.

"Absolutely bonkers." He whispered, slightly in awe of her voice. Whether he had heard one word or twenty, her voice sounded small and he couldn't wait to hear more of it some day.

Needless to say, more kissing took place on the couch that afternoon, followed by a nap or two, more kissing, a bit of laughing and small whispers from Harry.

"I want to shower." Harry mumbled, again, only this time his lips were pressed against Annabelle's head. She got up, allowing him to sit up, stretch, and walk slowly to the bathroom.

Annabelle decided to make tea, the way Harry taught her to, but before she could even turn on the kettle, she heard him calling for her. She didn't waste any time in setting down the kettle and rushing to his aid, worried that he had fallen ill again.

"This is too difficult." Harry groaned, not having the energy to lift his arms above his head. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms.
"I'm tired of being sick."

Annabelle frowned, deciding to run a bath for him, adding soap to make bubbles, just for fun. She helped him get undressed, and he had no problem with it. She tried not to stare when all of the material on his body was absent, but why look away? Her boyfriend was beautiful in every way imaginable.

Harry sat in the bath, allowing Annabelle to pour warm water over his shoulders, relaxing his muscles. She tilted his head back, holding one hands over his forehead as she poured water over his hair, careful not to get any into his eyes.

Simple and soft tunes filled the silence, coming from Annabelle. She hummed as she washed his hair and wiped his face free of any soap and dirt with a clean rag, gently going over his lips and around his eyes. Harry stared at her in even more awe than before, feeling her gentle fingers run through his hair. Feelings of calmness and safety surged through both of them, and as soon as Harry had sweatpants on, he found Annabelle in the kitchen and began to kiss her as if he hadn't had the chance to feel her lips in years. His hands held onto her body as if he hadn't held her in months, and all he wanted to do was be as close to her as possible.

Harry had never felt so much love for anyone, and he couldn't hold it in. He wanted to climb on top of a building and shout about how much he loves this girl who won't talk.

Annabelle looked at Harry with confusion in her eyes when their lips separated, but all he could do was grin. He shrugged, kissing her once more.

With each touch, Annabelle felt higher and higher, as if she couldn't get enough of him, and she never wanted to stop trying. Everything felt so perfect (besides Harry's sniffles and small coughs here and there), until Annabelle's phone started ringing. It was her mom.